Whisper of Life
by strlite
Summary: * FINSIHED* The struggle between life and death and the struggle for understanding's one feelings for both of our beloved heroes
1. And Then The Petal Falls

Oh God. The pain.  
  
Cutting you to your bones with it's knife of death. Eating away at your soul, destroying your will to live. Your want to survive. Your desire to keep persevering. It's beckoning you, calling your name. Over and over. Willing you to it's door. Willing to shove the key into your own hands to unlock whatever reprieve is waiting behind it.  
  
But you can't. you won't… will you? It's not right. It can't be justified. How can it be justified to die at the hands of another on your own living room floor, laying in your own blood and the shards of a broken mug and spilt tea that was meant to calm your nerves and prepare you to be able to concentrate on the work that was in front of you. Which happens to be moot now because you know who did it; you know who murdered Major Benson's wife, Hannah. You know the face behind the cruelty and malice. You know the hand that gave life to the fingers that pulled the trigger. The finger that pulled the trigger seven times, as a matter of fact, and reduced poor Hannah to nothing but a bloody beaten corpse. You know, because it was the same face and the same hand that killed you. Or tried. Tried to kill you. Because you are not dead yet. And it's then you realize, you must fight. You are still alive and because of that you must fight and bring justice.  
  
So you gather what little strength left in you and turn your head. The phone is only a couple of feet away on top of the table. Call him, call him… help me, help me… You know you don't have enough time left to have a conversation with the police you don't have the strength to answer all their necessary but futile questions because you know you will run out of time. So you reach with your arms and drag your body. It's a grueling process but becomes your mantra. reach, drag, reach, drag… Because these words give you power, they tell you, you are making progress. They give you hope to live.  
  
You reach the phone and pull it off the edge of the table. It clatters to the ground in front of you. Call him… help me. You dial the number you know by heart because you know you won't have to answer his questions. He will already know because he knows you. He knows your every mood, your every decision he will know when you are in trouble, just as you would him. You two are connected like that.  
  
You hear the first ring, then the second, then wait the one-hundred minutes till the third, and Oh God. What if he's not there. But he has to be because he has to know. You can feel your life slipping away, faster and faster. Three slams of a bullet will do that to you. Please answer. Please help me…please. And just when you feel you are going to give in to the nothingness, you hear a click. Then a shuffle and a breathless, "Rabb," on the other end. He must have just gotten home, just ran in the door. Maybe he ran to the grocery store after work because he had a missing ingredient for his Eggplant Parmesan. Or maybe he had just gotten back from an evening run. It was a nice night after all…  
  
He interrupts your thoughts with his words…Concentrate, you need to concentrate.  
  
"Hello…hello…who is this?"  
  
Surely he must have heard your labored breathing just as you heard that labored voice in your head: help me… "Hello, Mac, is that you?" He's worried. You can tell. So you muster every single fiber of strength you have and tell yourself to say it. Make yourself say it. You have to say it or you die, taunts that little voice.  
  
" 'arm…help…please 'elp." It comes out a throaty gurgle because you can feel the blood rising in your throat, threatening to choke you, your body ready to kill you by strangulation rather than asphyxiation. But your OK now because you said it. And on the last vestige of consciousness you can hear him calling you, screaming your name. But you allow yourself to fall into the welcoming darkness because it is there where the pain is no more.  
  
End Part 1.… 


	2. The Other Side

Whisper of Life Part 2  
  
Disclaimer: Forgot to add this on the first part, yikes. Anyway, JAG ain't mine and neither are any of the character in JAG. So, there you go.  
  
Author's Note: Not to confuse people, I go by two different pen names: Queenie and, of course, Strlite. Okay so maybe it is a little confusing, but oh well. Any way, I'm just a junior in high school so I don't know how often I'll get these parts put out or how long each part will be or how long the story will be as a whole. But this is my first fic, so I'll just start from the beginning and worry about what comes next. So, no flames please. I'm new to the whole JAG fanficiton world, so if I'm stepping on anyone's toes by using a similar storyline, sorry. This came from my own head, so don't take it personally. Anyway, enough of me, onto the story.   
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
He knew it was pointless to go on calling her name into the receiver. She was gone. He knew she was gone by the absence or her labored breaths and the smash of the phone dropping out of her lifeless fingers on to the ground. But yet, he couldn't seem to make himself put down the phone. He stood transfixed by the hovering silence. Maybe he was in shock. She was fine. She had been fine. She had stopped by his office before she left, not three hours ago, teasing him about his workaholic tendencies and lack of social life.  
  
"And yet Marine, you are going home to an old dog and a night of reviewing the Benson Court Martial." He had teased back, watching her stick out her tongue and saunter out of his office. Normally this sort of repartee by anyone else would grate on his nerves and put him on the defensive. But not with her. Never with her smile and her dancing eyes. She knew he would never take what she said seriously, and he knew that she would never mean it seriously. The two of them were connected like that.  
  
So why was he still standing there? He jumped out of his stupor, grabbed his running shoes and shoved them on his feet, not even bothering to lace them because he had already wasted enough time. As he grabbed the keys, he at least had the sense to grab his cell. He had no idea what had happened to her, but he did know, without a doubt, that something was very, very wrong. He could feel time slipping away by the second and he grew more and more panicked that he might be too late already.  
  
As he threw his Corvette into gear, he was already on the phone dialing the police. The drive over there was 20 minutes at the least, and he knew he needed to haul his six. He ran almost every red light in his path and whipped his car around every corner. Sixty seemed like a good speed. Why did these things always happen to them, he thought. Why did this have to happen to her? And couldn't he at least have been there to protect her? He knew he would have. Whatever had happened to her, he knew he would have taken the equivalent times one thousand if it meant she would be safe. If it meant he could see her beautiful face again. If it meant she could have a chance at the life she always wanted but that he would never give her. He thought they would always have time. Together, they seemed invincible. But one thing he now knew was that time was unpredictable. The only predictable thing about time at the moment was that it was slipping. And slipping fast. Slipping out of control just like his sanity. If she didn't make it he knew he never would. How could he?  
  
As he whipped around the last corner to her apartments he was greeted with a sight that he had hoped he would never see. Nearly six or seven police cars, an ambulance and a fire truck were stationed outside the dark building. Tenants of the apartments were huddled in masses; some crying, some in shock; all portraying the same emotions that were probably splayed all over his own face. He took a deep breath and jumped out of his car. He ran underneath the police "Caution" tape. Ha, he thought bitterly. The damage has already been done. There is no reason to caution. As he shoved his way through the huddled crowd to the entrance, he felt a hand grab his forearm. A man's voice vaguely permeated his haze.  
"Sir, you can't go in there. Sir, that is off limits to the public."  
  
"That's my partner in there. I called the police," he said, wrenching his arm away from the meager man's grasp. He never even broke stride. He was determined to get to that door. To get to her. Just as he was reaching the crowded doorway to the apartments, he stopped still. Frozen in his steps.   
  
There she was. A vision of red on white. The blood was a stark and shocking contrast to the sterile hospital sheets. But the most deplorable contrast of all was the face of the stranger on the makeshift bed to the face that haunted his every memory. The face that he could never see enough each day, the face that gave him hope each day to persevere into the next. The face that he may never see again after today. When she was rushed past him on the gurney he could see the monstrous oxygen mask that was holding her beautiful face captive. He could see the blood trailing down her neck to behind her delicate ears. Her pale face made her seem gaunt and unfamiliar to him as she was whisked away. He didn't know what to do. For the second time in the past 30 minutes, he slipped into a state of shock. He needed to go with her, he knew he needed to. But his feet. His unresponsive feet remained indifferent to what his mind was telling them to do.   
  
The same officer that had tried to stop him from going in the building was standing off to the side, watching the man witness his partner being carried out on the stretcher. Partner my ass, he thought as he watched the emotions flicker across the dazed man's face. Hurt, anger, desolation and despair were all making their presence known. But their was something else…something that he could not identify. Something that he saw very rarely. Something like… a love lost. Maybe. Maybe it's my imagination, he thought. Or maybe not.  
  
Walking over to the lost looking man, he put his hand on his shoulder in sympathy.  
  
"Let's get you on that ambulance."  
  
Harm stared at the man surprised, having forgotten that he wasn't the only one here in this spiteful world. Well, ever since the moment he got Mac's call, it was spiteful. Before that it was… good. He managed a smile that ended up a complete failure and instead opted for a mumbled, "Thank you." The man took his arm and guided him towards the ambulance that was loading Mac.   
  
"This man's going to ride with her to the hospital," the officer said.  
  
Harm climbed in and immediately sat by Mac, grabbing her cold, lifeless fingers. He sat staring at the illusory image in front of him. As he gently stroked her fingers, he leaned his head down to hers, touching his forehead to hers, wanting, no needing to make contact with her. Flesh against flesh to remind him that she was still here. She was still alive, if only barely. As he disregarded the medical workers helping to keep Mac alive, he closed his eyes and allowed the first few tears of grief slip out on to her pallid cheeks.  
"Why God?" he whispered 


	3. Life vs Life

Whisper Of Life Part 3  
  
Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, yadda. Same thing as before, never owned them never will.  
  
Authors Note: Okay guys, this might be it until the weekend. I have real life to tend to then I'm jumpin back into this one. Can't wait. Anyway, got the next chapter halfway done. I may post it as two parts (a and b) not sure. It's looking to be pretty long, but whatever. I'll just go with it. Thanks for all the cool reviews again!!! You guys are the best.  
  
  
Floating. Hovering between one place and the other. So restful, you think. So calm and so inviting. And once again, something is beckoning you. But this time it is not to give in to the pain. Nor to the fear. This time it is peace. And you smile as you feel it casting it's rays upon your face. Warming you and erasing any trace of pain you ever had. You can see the light getting brighter and warmer and it's getting to hard to resist. But why do you want to resist it. It's offering you everything you ever wanted. Everything you ever desired.  
  
But as you take a step closer to the light, something makes you hesitate. A doubt. A lingering doubt that slowly pries you away from your first preference. Away from peace. But why? Why can't it just let you be happy? All you want is to be happy. You hear a voice, a whisper really. But it's not coming from the light. It's from behind. You turn your head and see the darkness. You start to feel cold and want to turn away but you can't. because you hear that incessant whisper calling to something. Or to someone. A name. It's calling someone's name. It drifts through your mind like tendrils of a fog. You try to recognize what it is saying and then at last, your mind distinguishes it:  
  
Ma…'ac…'eez… Mac, please.  
  
Mac. Please. That's your name. Someone is calling your name, and you're confused. But you hear it again and the voice to go with it. And suddenly you remember. And with the sudden force of the memory, so comes the sensations throughout your body. A tingle really, a slight buzz. First in your shoulder. As you reach to touch it you begin to feel the same thing in your thigh as well as in your chest. And it spreads. It spreads throughout your whole body until you can feel it coursing through every extremity. You realize then that this is your pain. And the light and the darkness are giving you the choice to choose. And you're torn. You want to reach back to the light, just a couple more steps and you're there. But you remember him. And you recognize his voice calling to you. Your name: Mac. He needs you, although he won't say so. But you can hear it in his voice. You know him and he knows you and that is why you can't give up. You're too stubborn to give up. Even in the light, you are lost without him. So you turn and you bravely take your steps towards the dark and the cold and the fear and the pain. And it begins to hurt as you remember it did before. But this is the price you have to pay for life. The price to see him again. And so you close your eyes, take a deep breath and let go. You prepare yourself for the long journey through the darkness but you're not scared because you know he's waiting for you…  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
As the ambulance skids to a stop in front of the emergency entry of Bethesda, the EMT drivers run around the vehicle and yank the doors open. The EMT crew hop out, pulling Mac behind them. Harm follows them out, and returns to his vigil at her side. He runs alongside them as close as he can be without disturbing what the crew was trying to fix.  
  
They had almost lost her twice on the way over here. Even in that short 7 or so minutes time. But of course only Mac would know the exact amount.   
"That's six minutes and 38 seconds Flyboy," she would say. And of course his reply would be the standard, "You know someday, you'll have to tell me how you do that." She would laugh and smile slyly like she always did. But now, there might not be a someday. Because each time her heart stopped so did his. Each time he had called out to her, pleading with his voice for her to come back. He would not let her give up. He couldn't. The two of them were connected like that. He knew she was too stubborn to give up. She was a marine after all.  
  
As they were rushing down the dismal hospital corridors, he vaguely registered all the pitied looks he was getting from strangers. How he must look to them; a lost man with worried eyes and was unable to do anything more than run after the wounded woman he loved.  
  
The wounded woman he loved.  
  
The woman he loved.  
  
He loved the woman. The wounded woman.  
  
And what a perfect occasion to drudge up these relentless feelings. He decided to cast them aside for the moment and concentrate on what was at hand. She would make it. And then he would tell her and then they could be together forever. At least that's how he had it all planned out in his mind. But that plan required time, and time was something that was not on their side tonight. He forged ahead with the stretcher carrying His Marine and didn't even notice the sign above the door they had just forged through that said, "SURGERY: Medical Personnel Only" until a hefty nurse with a name tag that read Lucy drew back from the massive huddle and stopped in front of him.  
  
"I'm sorry sir. Medical personnel only. You'll have to wait outside."  
  
" But I have to be with her. She needs me," he pleaded with his scratchy voice.  
  
" She needs a doctor sir. Please have a seat on a chair and we'll keep you abreast," she said as she guided him out the "Medical Personnel Only" room and showed him to a seat.  
  
"She'll be okay, sir. They always are." and with a sympathetic pat on his arm she took off after the waiting doctors.  
  
He stared at the doors as they swung back and forth after she pushed through them. Back and forth. Back and forth. An ongoing rhythm so unlike the rhythm of life. Defeated, he sunk into the proffered chair. He looked around the room for some sign of assurance that everything was going to be okay. Any sign that what the nurse had told him was true. He needed everything to be okay. But the only thing he noticed was that the room had a leak in the corner on the ceiling. His head sunk to his hands and he wondered. Who had done this to her? And why? Why would someone want to hurt Sarah McKenzie? He jumped up and threw the flimsy plastic chair away from him. He turned around and pummeled his fist into the wall, over and over. He did not notice any pain except hers. Why couldn't I have been there God, why couldn't I have protected her, he thought. Leaning his forehead against the wall and finally overwhelmed, he cradled his bleeding fist in his other arm and he fell hard into heartache. Slowly, he sank to the floor and broke… 


	4. Light of Some Kind

Whisper of Life Part 4a  
  
Disclaimer: JAG is not mine.  
  
Ok guys. Here's the next half of a part. I finally had time to write and type and I hope this appeases you for a while. I'll try to be back as soon as I can. And if you haven't noticed yet, this is basically a H/M shipper story dealing with their emotions and struggles. I haven't added much dialogue really because I really like to dive into the characters emotions and feelings more and it's easier for me personally to write. So sorry, if this is boring you. I hope it's not. I really enjoy writing this, it's a lot of fun. And don't worry, it will get happy. I just don't know when yet. So hang in there everyone and keep the feedback comin. You guys are the greatest!!! J  
  
  
Harm had been at Mac's side for the whole thirty-four hours and however many minutes. He could distantly remember the "medical personnel only" nurse- what was her name again…Lucy- coming to inform him that Mac had made it through the seven hour surgery that had seemed more like seven days to him. He dimly registered the fact that while the two bullets through the shoulder and the thigh had made a clean punctures, the bullet to her chest nicked her right lung and cracked a few of her ribs. But the one thing that he was fully aware of was that "Colonel Sarah McKenzie" was being moved to the ICU and he could go see her after she was stabilized. Twenty minutes later he was standing outside her door with his hand on the doorknob, preparing himself for what he would see on the other side. Strengthening himself so he could be strong for her when she needed him when she woke up. But the real truth was, he was the one that needed her. So with that final thought, he twisted the knob in his hand and stepped hesitantly through. What he saw made his stomach drop and his knees buckle, almost plummeting him to the floor.  
  
She had so many tubes going in and out of her like snakes trying to devour her body. Her eyes were taped shut, for precautionary measures they had said. But she was breathing. Thank God she was breathing. But not voluntarily, he noticed. No, that small blessing was due to the large apparatus that was literally growing out of her throat, forcing her to live when everything else around her proved that she shouldn't live. It was eerily quiet in the room. Almost deathly. No, not deathly…never deathly. It was just…to quiet. Except for the steady best of her pulse on one of the many machines and her pseudo, life giving breaths, there was not another sound. Witnessing all these machines doing their work, it was apparent to him why the next day would prove if Sarah McKenzie would live or die. They said she had lost too much blood, and it was up to her to pull through. Oh God.  
  
He clenched his sweaty fists and pulled one of the standard issue plastic hospital chairs over to her bedside. He sat down and scooted closer to her. His eyes gently moved over her body, his mind trying to imagine her before. Before all this. Her beautiful brown eyes. Her teasing smile with it's soulful laugh.   
  
He reached his hand out hesitantly to touch hers. Afraid to touch her for fear of breaking her. As his fingers made contact with her, he remembered the cold he had felt before. He wove his fingers together with hers and picked them up and placed a small kiss on her palm. Then he laid them back down on the side her bed. He looked down at their intertwined hands. How small hers were to his. How small and meek they looked now compared to the ones that used to be ready to take on the world. Ha, if she knew I was thinking about her being small and meek, she'd kick my six all the way to the Patrick Henry, he thought with a grin. But then he sobered. He had become aware of the perfect fit. Her soft delicate fingers tucked into his large ones. If only he had recognized that sooner-like three or four years sooner, he thought ruefully.  
  
During the next several hours, Harm made calls to the Admiral at JAG and to Col. O'Hara in Leavenworth, relaying to them the situation that they all found themselves in at the moment. The Admiral showed up at the hospital not 20 minutes after being informed. He tried to order Harm to go home and get some sleep, or to at least get some rest on a couch here but all efforts were futile. Harm was bound and determined to stay awake and at Mac's side until she came back to him. Sturgis came up to offer Harm some support and words of encouragement. They all gave him word of encouragement and sympathy, but why give them to him though? It was Mac that was fighting for her life. It was Mac that had been shot three times. He started to get frustrated with the endless mumblings of "she'll be okay" and the incessant "Mac's a marine. She's to stubborn to back down from a fight." He probably would have gone crazy from all the compassion if Harriet and Bud hadn't showed up with little AJ. It's funny, he thought, that the tiniest things can give you the most hope.  
  
He remembered the look on little AJ's face as he pushed through the door to Mac's room and bounded into his Uncle's arms.  
  
"Uncle Harm!"  
  
"Hey kiddo," he laughed as the little one squeezed his tiny arms around his neck. "Hey guys," he added as he saw the Bud limping through the door and guiding his pregnant wife, a few steps behind their bouncy bundle of energy.  
  
"Hey sir," Bud said as he came up to the Commander.  
  
"Bud…Harriet, how many times do I have to tell you? It's just Harm when we're out of uniform," he laughed as he placed AJ onto the floor.  
  
"Of course," they smiled. "How are you Harm?" Harriet asked. She put a protective hand to her stomach, something that had become sort of a habit for her whenever she was worried about something, or someone and in this case would be him.  
  
"I'm doing okay Harriet," he answered. Though not very convincingly, because they were still staring at him with doubt. He looked down to the ground. They were right. They were all right, he was not fine. He was not okay. And he was tired of pretending to be. He sank into his chair and put his head into his hands. "To tell the truth, I don't know really what I'm feeling," he said. He felt a tiny fingers grab his hands and pull them away from his face.  
  
"Uncle Harm, why are you sad?" AJ asked innocently. He became envious of the child's naivety. He really wished he could be oblivious to the situation right at the moment. He looked up to Harriet and Bud to try and see just how much they had told him of the situation. He took the little boy's hands and held them in his own.  
  
"I'm sad because Aunt Mac is very sick," he told him. AJ looked over to his beloved Aunt and said, "But Uncle Harm, look. She's just sleeping." Harm closed his eyes and put his chin to his chest.   
  
"AJ, baby…" Harriet tried to interrupt to save the grief-stricken Commander. She didn't think that he needed to go through this again, much less with a four-year old who doesn't understand the concept of life and death yet.  
  
"No, Harriet…it's okay," Harm stopped her. He looked over to Mac and really looked at her. "It does look like she's sleeping doesn't it," Harm said, agreeing with his godchild. He pulled him up on to his lap and they watched Mac together.   
  
"What do you think she's dreaming about?" He asked, choosing to go along with AJ's innocent suggestion. He decided that a little trip into a child's mind right now may not be such a bad idea. AJ squished his eyes together in concentration and thought for a moment.  
  
" You, me and Aunt Mac are all at the park together. And we're doing the swings like we did the other day, remember Uncle Harm? And I'm sitting on her lap and you're pushing us both and we're going really high. But I'm not scared because Aunt Mac has her arms around me real tight so I won't fall out." He turned around to face his Uncle and saw that he was crying. "Don't cry. It's a happy dream. She was laughing, remember?" He reached his little hands to try and wipe away the tears that were slowly making their way down Harm's face. Harm took his tiny hand and pulled him towards him, placing a kiss on his forehead.  
  
"Yeah, I remember kiddo," he said pulling back to look at the remarkable little boy.   
  
"AJ, baby. It's time for us to go now, okay? We can come visit Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm again later, sweetie," Bud interrupted. He too was tearing up because he remembered that day that Harm and Mac had come home from taking AJ to the park that day. They were so happy. And looking at the scene in front of him now, he realized that might never happen again. He took AJ's hand and helped him off Harm's lap.  
  
"Bye Harm, we'll come back later, okay?" Harriet asked.  
  
"Sure Harriet. I'd like that," he responded. He watched as they started to move towards the door. But right before they left AJ turned around and told him something that he would never forget.   
  
"Don't worry Uncle Harm. I don't think that she wants to leave yet anyway," he told him.  
  
"Why do you think that buddy?"   
  
"Because she'd miss you too much," and then he turned around and grabbed Harriet's hand and was gone.   
I'll be back with more soon I hope… 


	5. Close Your Eyes

Whisper of Life Part 4b  
  
Disclaimer: Still not mine. L  
  
Authors Note: Sorry for the delay guys. I've had major problems in RL and I'm just getting back on my feet. So, it may be a while until the next post again. I'm thinking we're coming to the end of my little adventure. I really didn't know how this would turn out but you guys it made it…bearable. No, I'm just jokin with ya! You guys made it totally awesome. But you never know, this has already taken on a mind of it's own and it could continue for another 50 or so parts. Well, maybe not that long, but anyway, on with the story…  
Whisper of Life Part 4b  
  
As she struggled to open her eyes she was aware of two things. First, the unbearable pain that was pressing down on her like a vice. It was coursing through her every nerve ending, allowing not a minute of reprieve. The second was the unfamiliar object lodged in her throat. She tried to move her hands up to her mouth to extricate whatever was there but found she was to weak and in too much pain to move; not to mention the heaviness that was not forbidding her to move her right hand an inch. She began to panic, hyperventilating with fear.  
  
As he felt the hand below his begin to shake and tremble he awoke with a start. He looked first to the hands that were most recently his pillow, then to the chest that was rising and falling more erratically than the former artificial struggle and then up to the face whose eyes were wide and blinking in irregular intervals and the mouth that was moving around, desperately trying to identify the foreign object invading it's space. She was awake. And she was frightened.  
  
"Mac, Mac… Hey, its alright. Its alright. You're okay. I'm here…you're okay," he spoke to her in an urgent voice while pressing the call button to alert the doctor. The moment her eyes made contact with his, she visibly relaxed. He could see the questions in her eyes, so he tried to convey the answers through his own. She reached for his hand that was resting on the rail. She grabbed it weakly and he squeezed it. She was in so much pain that she began to feel dizzy and she was so confused that she was frightened, but somehow, touching him, seeing him, being with him…it made it all go away. She kept her honey-brown eyes locked with his ice-blue ones, that at the moment were lined red with fatigue.  
  
"Glad to see you decided to join us Colonel," the Doctor said with a smile as he came into the room. He gave a small nod to Harm, hinting in a way that everything was going to be okay. And Harm sighed with relief; everything was going to be okay now. With that realization, he pulled Mac's small hand up to his lips and gave her a light kiss on her knuckles. He smiled to her and then she knew too; everything would be okay.  
  
"Okay Colonel. I suppose you're wanting to get this tube out of your mouth. Now, when I begin to pull, try to relax your throat muscles. Don't try to fight it," he said as he began to unplug some of the machines and reach for the respirator coming out of her throat. "It'll be a little uncomfortable, but after we're done, we'll get you some ice chips to suck on." As he pulled up on the tube, Mac winced and squeezed on Harm's hand tight. Harm gave an encouraging squeeze back. Watching that tube come out of her mouth looked a lot more than "a little uncomfortable". but soon it was over and Mac was trying to move her lips and swallow to get the muscles in her face up to par. He watched as the Doctor walked back out of the room after leaving her a cup of ice and doing his preliminary check-ups, letting Harm have the opportunity to tell Mac about her situation. He looked back to Mac and gave her a piece of ice to suck on. Thirty-four hours was a long time for Mac to go without being able to utter a word, he thought with a grin.  
  
"What are you smiling' at, Flyboy?" she croaked. Looking at her alive and… semi-well, he suddenly had an overwhelming feeling that he needed to connect with her in any way possible. Sliding to the front of her chair, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. Without breaking the connection after the kiss was ended, he just let his lips rest there, happy for the small union they had made. She let her eyes slip shut and her smile changed to a curve of pleasure as she sucked on a piece of ice the Doctor had left her. He pulled back so that he was leaning over her bed, their faces only inches apart, and whispered, "Thank you."  
  
"What?" she asked groggily, clearly confused.  
  
"Thank you for coming back." She looked at him solemnly for a moment, debating whether or not to go with the more serious approach or the more humorous. She opted for the latter.   
  
"What, do you think I'd leave you to fend for yourself whenever you got yourself in trouble?" She asked him with a wry grin. Although her voice had not all the way returned and the usual luminance of her face was slowly coming back, underneath it all she still had that same sarcastic humor he loved.  
  
"Nobody likes a smart-ass, Marine."  
  
"Whatever you say, Sailor, " she chuckled, still grinning at him. But with that chuckle came all the memories of why that were even here in the first place when her chest started to throb with pain. She tried to hide her grimace but Harm noticed the change in her visage. He had asked to be the one to tell Mac about her injuries and Major Benson and… God, he really didn't want to be the one to tell her about Benson but he knew he should be the one. He knew that she needed to hear it from him even though she wouldn't like what she was going to hear.  
  
"You okay Mac?" he asked her as he sat back into his chair, reaching out his hand to gently push the locks of hair off her forehead. He had meant to just sweep the locks behind her ear but the temptation of her touch was tantalizing his mind. It was usually that way whenever he was around her. He noticed her gaze locked on to his, asking a question with her eyes. He knew what she was asking but he wanted to hear her say it. He wanted her voice to give him permission to answer her. It seemed she was reading her thoughts.  
  
"What happened Harm?" If there was ever a loaded question…  
  
"You were shot three times Mac… in your apartment," e answered. He had decided to play dumb to put off the inevitable. He knew that answer was not going to satisfy her though and he could tell by the warning look in her eyes. She knew he was holding back. He took a deep breath and dove in. No going back now. "You were shot once in your leg and your shoulder, but those bullets went straight through. The Doctor said that the reason you have a hard time breathing and a horrible pain in your chest is because the bullet knicked your lung and cracked a few ribs. He said that it will take several weeks to heal. You've been out for a day and a half now."  
  
She thought for a moment, not sure if she wanted to know the next question she was about to ask. Deciding to go for broke, she forged ahead. "Harm, how come you haven't asked me who did this?" He broke their gaze and looked down at his lap. Her question had been answered.   
  
"You didn't ask me because you already know, don't you?"  
  
"Yes," he mumbled. Her eyes closed on the tears that were threatening to escape. After working with Harm for seven years, one thing she learned was how to read him when he was about to tell her bad news. And this would be one of those times. She had no idea what had happened, but she knew it was bad. At least bad for poor her and in a way bad for poor Hannah.  
  
"How?" She whispered brokenly.  
  
Harm looked up and locked on her face. "Mac, Major Benson killed himself last night. They went to go look for him this morning when he didn't show up for duty," he paused. He could see that she was about to lose it. Her façade was starting to crumble. She knew she had wanted justice for herself and Hannah. And not just justice because of the law. But justice for herself. And he took the coward's way out. He reached out to wipe cup her cheek in his hand, wiping her tears. She opened her eyes and looked at him.   
  
"How'd he do it?"  
  
"He overdosed on his medication. Apparently, he had been seeing a psychologist after showing symptoms of paranoia. No one even knew." He took a breath ad studied her face. " He was a sick man, Mac." he said, hoping to alleviate her pain. But by the look on her face, he knew he had failed. He saw the beginnings of fury in her eyes and heard the edge to her voice as she asked him how he knew they had done it though. "He left a note…he apologized for killing Hannah and for killing you. Or at least he thought he killed you," he said in anguish. He blinked his eyes to clear his mind and went on. "He asked for forgiveness… he wanted us to forgive him, Mac. I don't know how he expected us to do that though… I mean… I just don't know how to do that. He almost killed you," he said as his thoughts from the past day and a half began to just run off his tongue and out of his mouth. He tried to gain back some of his control because he could see that she didn't need any of his emotional baggage right now. She needed him to be strong for her. He took a deep breath and pulled himself back together. "He was just a sick, sick man. Mac," he tried again. But who was he fooling? Certainly not himself and certainly not Sarah McKenzie.  
  
"There was nothing sick about him Harm. He was just plain evil," she said as a sob caught in her throat. It wasn't fair. He was supposed to get away with this that easily. After the years of torment he put Hannah through and what he put her through… he wasn't supposed to die at his own hands. This was not how justice was supposed to be served. He was suppose to rot in jail then rot in Hell. Stupid coward. Stupid   
  
She reached out to Harm with her good arm as the tears started to fall like rain. She needed him to hold her, she needed him. He took her into his arms as gently as he could and he let her cry for her pain and for what she had lost.  
  
Okay, I know. Still dark, but please, I know I've said this a million and one times, bear with me. It will be a happy ending. Yay for H/M shipper… 


	6. Walking After You

Whisper of Life Conclusion  
  
Disclaimer: JAG is not mine  
  
Author's Note: Okay, this is it guys. One last half of a part. And I've got it all written out too. Just have to type it now. I had hoped to end this a little more strongly but I just don't have the time right now. I think I took on too much for an 17 year old mind on her first fanfic. But, I hoped you guys liked it. It was lots of fun for me. And, again, thanks for all the nice reviews. I didn't know what to expect my first time around. I think I'll be back soon with another fanfic, a one parter I think. So thanks again for all the fun. You guys are awesome!!!  
  
Whisper of Life Conclusion  
  
Harm's Apartment   
Two Weeks Later…  
  
" Harm, shove over a little bit so I can get to the silver ware."  
  
"What do you need to get the silverware for, Mac?"  
  
"So I can set the table, Harm."  
  
" Mac, I'll set the table."  
  
" Then hand me the glasses will you. Do you want tea?" Mac asked.  
  
"Mac, I'll set the table and I'll pour the drinks. You just go sit down over there on the couch and I'll be finished with dinner in a minute," Harm said, starting to get annoyed with her persistence. But hey, she was stubborn Jarhead after all.  
  
" Well then, here. Go set the table and go pour our drinks and I'll finish stirring the pasta," Mac said with a persuasive smile.  
  
" Mac, seriously. If you don't sit down, you are not going to like what is going to happen," Harm said as Mac asked for the fifteenth time to try and help with their dinner.  
  
Annoyed, Mac sighed. " Harm…just because I'm injured doesn't mean that I'm an immobile gimp. Let me help," she said as she scooted around the kitchen's island to stand next to him. Exasperated, Harm stopped his stirring of their dinner and turned around to face her. " Mac, do you have any rope?" he questioned, throwing her off track.  
  
She looked at him perplexed, unsure whether to answer him or not, afraid of where this was going. " No… why?"  
  
"Because if you don't sit your six down on that couch in seven seconds, I'm going to pick you up, carry you over, hold you down and tie you to it, " he said as he went back to his cooking.  
  
Okay, this was it. Harm had been at her side 24/7 since the day she found out about Major Benson. And it wasn't that she minded being with him. She didn't mind when he offered for her to stay with him until she fully recovered. Not until he started babying her, bringing her her meals- on the couch- taking her her coffee- on the couch- bringing her books to read- on the couch. What she minded was him hovering over her and irritating her by trying to keep her from breaking. She didn't know why either. She's a Marine, not a China Doll. He was a great encouragement during her physical therapy. She knew he really did care, but it was strange. She noticed that the way he acted toward her and the way that he always seemed o carefully be choosing his words around her… there was something that he was not telling her. " Harm, I don't think you understand that for the past two weeks, I have either been stuck in a bed or glued to your couch," she declared, raising her arms in the air and backing away from him. " I am sick and tired of being sick and tired, and I don't think that standing on my own two feet and helping you stir noodles is going to kill me. I'm not you Mother's china plate, Harm," she knew she was being harsh, and probably a little moody, but she couldn't stand it anymore. She saw the look of hurt flicker across his face and it confirmed her beliefs. And then it clicked. She knew what was wrong and his next words confirmed it.  
  
He slammed his fist down on the countertop. " You're right Mac. But getting shot three times will. So, forgive me for worrying a little bit about you." He paused for a moment, letting his words sink into his own mind. He had tried to be strong for her and not have her worry about his crap on top of hers. But looking at her face after his outburst and acknowledgment of what he was feeling did him in.  
  
" You're right too, Harm, but I'm not dead. I'm okay. I'm still here," she said.  
  
" I guess I'm just coming to terms with the reality that I can't always be there to keep you from getting hurt," he finally said as he sat his spoon down and turned off the stove top. The noodles had been done for the past five minutes, after all. He turned around and took the noodles over to the sink to drain. He needed to stay preoccupied with something because he knew he'd come apart if he didn't.  
  
Mac sat on the other side of the counter, her anger slowly starting to escalate. His " saint- of-the-world" complex was really grating on her nerves. Why does he always have to carry the whole world on his shoulders, she thought. He can't play God and man at once. " Is that what's wrong, Harm, that you think that if you'd have been there this whole thing could have been prevented? Because I've got news for you. If you had, we would both be dead. He unloaded three on me. What makes you think he wouldn't have used the rest on you?" She was yelling by now, fuming that he could think this was his fault. She also noticed the grimace that passed over his face when she reminded him of her shooting, but she ignored it and pressed on. " When are you going to stop believing that everything bad that happens in the world is somehow your fault?" Screw the gentle approach.  
  
" It's not everything bad that happens to the world, Sarah. It's everything bad that happens to you," he spun around, shouting back at her. He had had enough of controlling his emotions. Who said he had to be the strong one anyway?  
  
She stood there, hands clutching the sides of the counter, stunned at what he had said. Stunned at how he said it. She could see the anger and fury that passed over his face as he yelled at her. She saw the sadness and hurt. But she also saw…relief? So this was what he had been keeping from her, she thought. But she didn't know how to respond to his sudden outburst. So she said the first thing that came to her mind and flew out her mouth. " Harm, do not turn me into one of your obsessions!"  
  
"Dammit, Mac. You know better than that," he warned, his eyes hard as ice.  
  
What? I know better than what? Like hell, and she would make sure he knew it. She was tired of this stupid game they had played for the past seven years. "Do I Harm? I mean, really, when it comes down to it, do I really ever know what you are thinking? No! and you know why Harm? Because maybe unlike some people that you happen to know, I'm not a freaking mind reader," she said, her unresolved feelings of the last seven years getting the better of her. She knew she was being ruthless. No, more than ruthless. Brutal. And after everything Harm had done for her, she knew he didn't deserve this kind of treatment from her. But dammit, why did he have to be so uncommunicative. She could see that she was slowly breaking down the walls he had so carefully constructed around himself though. And if this was the only way of getting him to open up to her, then…I guess…so be it.  
They stared at each other for a long moment, all different emotions passing across their faces. Anger, hurt, even desire. But then, suddenly, Harm's face turned into one large mask of guilt and he looked down at his shoes. He knew what this was really about, and she was right. How many times had she laid her heart out to him? And how many times had he pushed her away? But then when she got involved with other men, he selfishly became angry at her, feeling he had any sort of claim on her. But in reality, he didn't. because in reality, he never told her. He turned his back to and put his hands down on the countertop in front of him. He rested his weight on his arms and closed his eyes, resting his chin on his chest. She was right. And he was guilty as charged.  
  
"You're right, Mac," he whispered to the feet. " You're right and I'm sorry." There was silence.  
  
He could feel her staring at his back and could imagine the look on her face. How did they get to this point, he asked himself. He thought back to the time he had asked her that before. It seemed like so many years ago to him.   
  
He felt rather than heard her start to approach him from behind. She took slow, hesitant steps as she draw nearer to him, stopping not two inches from his body. He could feel her warmth radiating off her and encasing his body. Tentatively, she reached her hands up to his shoulder and let them rest there for a moment. She absorbed his tension through her palms and she could tell he was apprehensive of his touch after what had just gone down. She wanted to tell him that she didn't need him to be sorry. She wanted to make him know that she did not want to be right. She wanted him to know that she just needed him to be Harm, her best friend and the man she loved. She ran her hands from his shoulders down along his sides, her fingers feeling the indentions between his ribs and finally resting on his hips. She reached up on her tiptoes and lightly kissed the back of his neck. Her hands slipped around his waist and they grasped each other in the front, pulling him towards her lightly. She rested her forehead between his shoulder blades and inhaled the scent that was uniquely Harm. This is what she needed. And this is what he needed too. " I don't need you to be my protector, Harm. Or my hero," she whispered. She had felt him relax a while ago, but now he actually eased into her embrace. " I just need you."  
  
Harm opened his eyes after he heard what she said. A tear fell from his eye and dropped to her hands resting on his chest. Why did things have to be so bad between them before they could actually force the words out that they'd been trying to say for forever. He was tired of settling for silence and safety. He was tired of all of it and knew she was as well. Se had forgiven him for his past and she was ready to start with the future. With him. This was his chance to get it right and her gentle touch was all the encouragement he needed.  
  
He turned around in her arms and cupped her cheeks with both hands, bringing her forehead to his lips. But instead of kissing her, he just let his lips rest there, thanking her for her unwearied love and patience for him. He relished in the feeling of her being with him here like this, of having her close. She was absently running her hands up and down his back, unconsciously giving him the courage to go on with the moment. He pulled his mouth away from her forehead and kissed the crown of her head. He looked into her eyes, both watering with unshed tears.   
  
"Sarah, I am so cared to give you event he smallest piece of me." She reached her hand up to caress the side of his face, running her fingers along the length of his jaw.  
  
" Why?" She sighed as her other hand settled on the back of his neck, threading her fingertips through the fine hairs.  
  
He let his eyes roam over all the beautiful features of her face. Her eyes that, just the other day it seemed, had a taunting gleam, teasing him about his social life, or lack thereof, now begging him to answer her question. Her expression was pleading with his mind to answer with the truth this time. This is it Rabb, no turning back now. This is your time to tell her before this all ever happened. He took a deep breath and looked her squarely in the eye. " Because I am so in love with you Mac, that if I ever lost you… I'd lose myself.  
  
A sob escaped her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut, letting her head drop to her chest. She couldn't believe what she had finally hear. " Mac?" she heard Harm ask. She looked up to his eyes, sensing the trepidation in his touch and voice. She gave him a watery smile. " You can never lose by loving. You can only lose by holding back." she said. Harm was looking at her, his features clouded with confusion. She gave a little laugh. " It's something my Uncle taught me while I was drying out," she paused for a moment. She reached up to wipe her eyes. " And Harm, I don't want to hold back anymore. I'm too in love with you to hold back anymore." By now, the tears were coming harder for both of them. But at last, they weren't tears of regret, or hurt, or even sadness. They were tears of joy and happiness and a love realized. Harm leaned down and closed the distance between them, kissing her lightly on the nose. Then on her eyelids. And her cheeks and forehead and temple and everywhere his lips could make contact with her skin. And then, as if seeking permission, he drew back and looked at her. But before too much space could come between them, she pulled his head down and smashed her lips onto his, welding her touch and his together as a promise. Her knees buckled and she grabbed his shirt to keep herself from falling. She couldn't think of anything besides the fact that this was the way it was meant to be. Oh boy was this the way it was meant to be. As he began to kiss her with a more passionate need, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer than possible it seemed but not close enough. For them, it would never be close enough. She could feel his urgent desire rampaging through him, coursing through his every nerve ending and finding its home in hers. His hands were tangling themselves in her hair and her hands were… well, it doesn't matter where her hands were. She smiled into his mouth and accidentally let his tongue slip in. But hey, who's complaining? Finally, in desperate need of air, they pulled apart. He was grinning from ear to ear. She loved seeing him smile like that. And until now, she had never seen it quite that brilliant. She knew at that moment that they were going to be okay.   
  
"So, where do we go from here?" he asked.  
  
She thought for a moment, her face contorting into a serious expression. And then her smile turned mischievous and…was that?… Good Lord. Sarah McKenzie was smiling at him, seductively.   
  
" Mmm… I think we could think of a few places," she said playfully as she leaned into kiss him again, pulling him flush to her.   
  
That night their love together created a promise. It promised no more holding back. No more unspoken feelings. No more being alone. They finally knew in their hearts together what they had separately known all along. They were finally, connected like that. 


End file.
